


Memorium

by WaterlilyRose



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, I needed to write this for my own sanity, RIP Carrie Fisher, Wakes & Funerals
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 22:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9092518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterlilyRose/pseuds/WaterlilyRose
Summary: Ben must step up to the plate and be the strong one at last.My tribute to Carrie Fisher 1956-2016





	

**Author's Note:**

> Afternoon.
> 
> I just... don't know what to say. I'm heartbroken. Actually stunned and like I've lost a friend. She was my first role model growing up and she was meant to get better. I prayed all through Christmas that she would. I loved her so much.
> 
> This is a coping mechanism for me. I can't write anything else until I had sobbed my way through this. I wrote this to 'Drawing' by Guy Farley.

_No. No. No. No. No._

 

The words sang like a choir in Ben’s head as he stood with his father and uncle, forced to listen to a sorrowful looking doctor explain that, while his mother fought the good fight, there was nothing more to be done.

 

In the years that followed, it would be difficult for Ben to sit down and say he could coherently remember what passed that day. It was a cliché and stupid thing to say but he seemed to go into automatic pilot. He nodded at the right times, put one foot in front of the other and said some words at his mother’s bedside. He couldn’t remember what words he said. It didn’t matter. His Mom wasn’t there to hear them. Not really.

 

_No. No. No. No. No._

 

The journey home had been silent. Not a single word was uttered between the three men. They were incapable of speech. Leia was always the chatty one. Always taking charge. Always on the ball. Knew what to do. Always saving their skins.

 

His uncle seemed incapable of speech. His twin was gone. His other piece. Lost to him and the bearded old man looked diminished by his loss. His eyes shined in a way that Ben hadn’t seen for years and they both looked away.

 

Han… his father… when had he gotten so old? Because Ben looked at him, really looked at him in that moment and realised that, despite the roguish good looks still evident in his weather-beaten face, his father was ageing. The grey hair and lively eyes did nothing in that moment. For Han Solo was beaten down with disbelief.

 

They were thinking the same thing: “Why has she gone first?”

 

Han was older, took more risks, put his neck on the line far too many times and he had enemies even today. Leia… she was powerful, young by modern standards and absolutely fine not a week ago.

 

_No. No. No. No. No._

 

Ben didn’t go to bed. He sat in an armchair and began to plan.

 

His uncle and father were lost. Leia wasn’t here to take control anymore. So he had to. He couldn’t be weak, lose his temper and freak out.

 

He had to do this. _For her._

 

* * *

 

They make the announcement to the press the next day. Condolences come flooding in and it’s on every news channel.

 

Ben is bombarded with images of his mother in her youth and it takes his breath away a little just how beautiful she was. There are pictures of her the first time she came to power, sporting her white dress and famous twin buns. Pictures of her larking about and pulling faces at the camera that loved her and who she loved in turn. Even the infamous gold bikini she sported on holiday one time and which made her a pin-up made him just scoff. He’d always hated that picture as a teenager with loud disgusted protestations. No boy wants their mother to be the teenage fantasy all around the world.

 

Now it's all just memories, even when he wasn’t born yet to be a part of it.

 

They receive more flowers than they know what to do with and so many messages of sympathy that Ben turns the answer phone off on the second day.

 

They soon receive visitors.

 

Rey flies through the door and throws herself into his Uncle’s arms, already sobbing. His uncle lets his own tears slide silently into his beard and her jumper. Even his father sniffs violently and speaks gruffly.

 

Rey turns her eyes on Ben and he waits calmly for her grief to find a target. He would pick the same one if he was her.

 

They have never gotten along. Rey, being a protege of Luke’s, had been welcomed as a sort of foster sister into the family not eighteen months ago. Leia had adored her and had her around the house at any opportunity. Rey saw Han and Leia as the parents she never had. Which made Ben’s previous life choices almost heinous in her eyes.

 

She had become the shining beacon of example that Ben could never compete with. She was strong where he was weak. She could hold her tongue while he lost his head. She stayed when he left.

 

He wanted to despise her because she definitely despised him. They clashed at every opportunity. Always rowing. Always throwing insults back and forth.

 

He’d paid for his past. He’d served his time in prison. He’d done the crime and the time. Couldn’t he be allowed to move forward now?

 

His Mom had forgiven him and they had spent the last precious six months rebuilding.

 

If he’d known it would be so short, they could have done so much more.

 

Rey is silent and Ben leaves to go back to the dining room. Carry on making calls. Making arrangements.

 

He’s just finished sorting the flowers (no lilies; white roses – like her wedding bouquet) when he looks up to see Rey standing in the door.

 

She steps up to him and sticks out her hand.

 

“A truce. For her.” It’s not a request and Ben understands. Instead he just takes her hand and shakes.

 

It’s a true sign of the times that touching Rey in any capacity doesn’t make his heart pound faster. Despite their enmity, he has never been able to deny that she was a beautiful girl.

 

He feels nothing in that moment. His body is shut down to emotions, good or bad and he likes it that way.

 

Instead, they put their heads together and get to work.

 

* * *

 

It is a lot of work to know how to properly honour a Senator and General in the public eye, Ben soon realises.

 

If it were up to him, Rey, Han and Luke then she would be buried quietly so they could process what was actually happening.

 

A lot of people however are keen to pay their respects. And it feels callous to deny them.

 

A conversation with Reverend Tekka, an old friend of Leia’s, soon decides it for them. She will have a grand procession to the D’Qar Cathedral and then the burial will be strictly private.

 

Ben works harder than ever. He scrutinises everything and makes sure every detail is perfect. Rey is never far away, helping to make the arrangements a little easier with her famous tact.

 

Soon it is the night before and there is nothing to do but wait for the dawn. His mourning suit is pressed and ready. His shoes shined. Everything planned to the minute.

 

He had been the colossal disappointment to his mother in life. He wouldn’t let her down now.

 

* * *

 

It all goes to plan. Everything is met with approval and he feels vaguely satisfied. He doubted his mother would have disliked anything.

 

When the time comes to go back to the mansion, Ben finds himself with nothing to do for the first time. There is nothing left to plan and that scares him.

 

He stays in the kitchen, continuously washing up. Scrubbing plates and rinsing wine glasses gives his hands something to do and he would prefer that to having to come face-to-face with his mother’s friends and well wishers any day.

 

Rey pops in now and again and sometimes tries to urge him to come out to eat something. Eventually she gives up and Ben ignores her concerned glances.

 

Then the mourners have left, there’s nothing to clean up and he’s alone for the first time.

 

His uncle retires to bed early, exhausted in mind and body, and Han takes a strong scotch into his drawing room. He squeezes Ben’s shoulder on his way out for lack of anything else to do. Even now in the face of tragedy, they are crap at feelings.

 

Rey has gone into the garden. He’s alone.

 

This house is too big. Obscenely big. They never needed a house this big when they were all together. It’s just a reminder of the fact they are one less now.

 

_No. No. No. No. No._

 

Ben walks to the piano where a bunch of framed photographs sit. There are numerous ones of Han and Leia in their heyday. Both beautiful and in love. A few of Ben as an adult. But one that catches his eyes and refuses to let go.

 

He had a head of black fluffy hair even as a baby. In the photo, he is barely two months old and his mother is holding him. Her nose is buried in his hair like she’s inhaling him. A moment immortalised of a mother besotted with her child.

 

_No. No. No! No!_

 

He’ll never see her again. Never get a chance to make it truly right. Never be able to explain that even when he had turned away from her, he had never ever stopped loving her. He remembered all his mistakes. All the times he had made her fall to her knees. Brought her embarrassment. Made her have to justify him in the Senate when her opponents used him as a weakness in her policies.

 

_No! No! No!_

 

He’d been getting better. He’d stopped drinking. He’d been able to control his temper more. He’d visited for dinner. He’d rung his mother most nights. He hadn’t argued with Han for two months. That was a record! He’d been better so why the hell had this happened anyway?!

 

**_No! No!_ **

 

His fist collides into the mirror on top of the fireplace. He rams it in again and again. He’s aware of his knuckles bleeding and pain but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about anything anymore.

 

He picks up a vase. Throws it. The crash is satisfying. Picks up another ornament. It goes the same way.

 

He has destroyed at least half the living room when he feels someone pulling at his hand to stop him reaching for something else.

 

“Ben! Ben, stop it! Stop!”

 

Rey clearly scared but doesn’t seem judgemental in that moment. Her shining eyes show him a grief that mirrors his own.

 

Because she’s gone. His Mom is gone. And it’s not fair.

 

He crumples like a child then. All the bargaining and the denial and the anger drained from him.

 

He falls to the ground, puts his face in his hands and sobs.

 

He’s only aware about ten minutes later that Rey is holding him, stroking his hair and crying with him. In that moment, they are exactly the same.

 

* * *

 

Rey bandages his hand and cleans up some of the mess. He sits on the floor the entire time. He’s past the point of movement.

 

She comes back with two mugs of tea. He’s always preferred coffee but the sugar she’s poured in is oddly helpful.

 

“She always liked your tea.” He murmured between sips.

 

“Tea bag stewed for two whole minutes. Little bit of milk. Half a spoon of sugar.” Rey recites.

 

“And a biscuit to dunk in.” Ben added, finding his lips curl at the memory.

 

That’s how their night ends. Sat on the floor, talking about her as they remembered her. Stupid, daft memories. Some make them laugh when Ben thought he’d never smile again and some make them cry again. Sometimes Ben holds Rey through it and sometimes Rey holds him.

 

There’s no shame in their weakness right now.

 

Rey finally dozes on the sofa, clearly exhausted.

 

Ben’s eyes itch but he watches the sun come up. He made it through one day. He hasn’t a clue how he’ll make it through the rest.

 

He picks the photo of him and his mother up and is pleased to see its unscathed.

 

He’ll remember her. He’ll always love her. He’ll make her proud.

**Author's Note:**

> RIP Space Mama. May the Force be with You Always.


End file.
